


Butt morning, sunshine

by Florchis



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Anal Play, F/M, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, Massage, Morning Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-27
Updated: 2018-12-27
Packaged: 2019-09-28 18:05:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17187800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: It's not everyday that they have a morning off, and Jemma is determined to make Fitz take advantage of it.





	Butt morning, sunshine

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sunalso](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunalso/gifts).



> I'm hiding behind my hands for that title, but this was supossed to be a bit about letting go of shame, so there you are.
> 
> Have a lovely birthday, you wonderful person! Hope you enjoy this Smut Fest!

Jemma wakes up- Mother Nature be blessed- because the sun is shining directly to her eyes, and not because there is an insidious alarm blaring her out of bed, or an emergency dragging her awake, or a nagging worry eating at the inside of her brain and forcing her to bad sleep. For once, she awakens naturally and at a reasonable time and small things can definitely be a source of joy.

She stretches her arms over her head and considers getting out of bed and having a jump start on the day activities, or even relax leisurely in the so rare silence that seems to be reigning on base. One look to her left is enough to deter her from that line of thinking because Fitz is snoring softly, his mouth open in a small “oh”, and such expanse of sun-golden skin at her dispositionmakes Jemma hungry, and not exactly for breakfast.

Jemma first reaches across the bed to place her hand on the base of his neck, her fingers tangling with the hair there, giving her better access to massage his scalp.

“Hey, Fitz?”

She could let him sleep because he deserves the extra sleep as much as she does, but she also deserves this moment of cool sheets and luxurious free time and being naked with her on their bed.

“Too early, Jemma. Wanna sleep.”

He turns around, leaving her to face his back, and Jemma smiles at watching the muscles of his back shifting. If he thought that doing that will deter her, he has another thing coming. He moves closer, spooning him from the waist down and tangling their legs together under the sheets, but leaving some space between his back and her front, enough to allow her to kiss a line from one shoulder to the other.

“Hey, Fiiitz?,” she insists. If he is really asleep she will let him be and get up, but she feels the way he is rutting his bum a little against her crotch, and maybe he is not as sleepy as he pretends to be.

“Wha’?” His voice is rough with sleep and feels like velvet on her ears, turning on an entire stream of lights that go down her brain to her sex. Once upon a time, she used to believe that sex needed to be deliberate and elaborate, but maybe what needed to be that way was the choosing of a partner. Who knows.

“We have the morning free.”

“Um, then why wouldn’t you let me sleep?”

She laughs then, pressing her mouth against the skin of his back, and she _knows_ he is smiling too.

“Sleep if you want. Just wanted to be fair and make sure that you were aware that there is _this_ in stock.” She rubs her breasts against him then, and he is not fast enough to swallow a gasp that sounds like it comes from deep inside his belly. “And also this.” She moves a little back again, her lips finding the curve where his neck turns into his shoulder, and she bites there lightly, playfully.

“Fuck, Jemma.” This time his voice is rough with intention, and she is still feeling carefree and a little fuzzy around the edges with sleep, and his voice alone is enough to make her arousal rose higher.

“You finally got on board,” she teases him before lapping at his vertebrae, nipping at every tendon she finds along the way. He tries to turn around to face her, but Jemma stops him with a hand placed low on his back. “No. Stay like this for a little longer.”

In fact, she keeps on pressing until he lies completely on his front, and she moves closer until even that distance feels too much and she straddles his bum, feeling wild with her breasts exposed to the sunlight and her clit bumping against the curve of his thighs. He moans, Jemma is not sure if what it does it for him is the position, or her weight on his legs, or the way her hands have found their way to his back once again.

This time she ignores the burning need screaming at her from between her legs, and she moves her hands from his shoulder to his shoulder blades and his spine, working every muscle on their way with practiced strokes. She wishes she had some cream or lotion to help with the friction, but she doesn’t want to bother him with asking for the one in her nightstand, so her bare hands will have to do.

She rubs and strokes every knot she finds on her wake, listening intently for his vocal cues, his moans and his hisses, and the way his breathing gets sharper at certain points. She loves his back and his skin the way she loves all of him, but she probably has not spent that much time with his shoulders ever since that time he got a sunburn during their first -and last- trip to the beach, and she is decided to make up for that. He is melted butter under her hands, pliant and vulnerable, and Jemma wants nothing more than to treasure this simple moment for their roughest times and for posterity.

Only when it looks like she has driven him to a new slumber, his flesh soft and warm all over, Jemma moves her hands to unexplored territory, working over his lower back and allowing her thumbs to dip under the waistband of his boxers. Fitz seems to stir awake at that but still doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask for anything, just lets her know that he appreciates her ministrations with soft moans. Jemma keeps her pace steady, not letting her own eagerness take the reins, and it’s not until her hands have moved to the round part of his bum that she addresses him again.

“What do you want, Fitz?” She skips the teasing and the pleasantries, asking him a direct question, imagining that he is aware that she can feel the way he has been rubbing against the mattress for the last five minutes. Maybe, even, aware of the damp spot her knickers are leaving against his overheated skin.

“Touch me, Jemma.” His request comes out as half a plea, half a moan, and Jemma usually would have gone the route of replying _I_ am _touching you,_ and keeping him on edge for a little longer, but this time they have a luxurious morning together, and she feels hungry herself with the need of wanting to make him feel good, so good that he has to let the rest of the day go to waste, lost in aftershocks of pleasure.

She lets herself fall from her sitting position on top of his thighs to a kneeling one in between them. She moves his boxers down and off his legs, and after that gives him a soft tap on his right bum cheek.

“Up you go.” When he moves up his pelvis- she will tease him about that later, _see how you can be flexible when you want?_ -, she places two pillows under his belly, to help him with keeping his legs open and his hips raised. “Just like that.”

Only then she gets up, and goes to their wardrobe, taking out some lube and a washcloth from a drawer. She doesn’t look at him, but she knows Fitz is watching her intently, so she makes sure to bend her waist and not her knees, letting him appreciate the shape of her ass and the stretch of her back thighs. He doesn’t say anything, and shortly she takes up her previous position between his legs.

“You tell me if you want me to do something,” she says, and she knows he probably won’t do it until he is on the verge of orgasm and he can’t help himself, but she says it anyway because they both know it also means _and even more if I do something you don’t like._

She starts slow, massaging his bum cheeks in a similar manner to what she did to his back and his shoulder blades, looking for sore points and knowing that just her hands working through the soft flesh there feel pleasant enough. She slowly works her way to the top of his thighs, and once she is there, she massages him only with her thumbs, and let the rest of her fingers brush against the sensitive skin of his ballsack. Fitz moans, and his hips raise higher from the bed, but Jemma’s hands hold him on his position, not allowing him to thrust back at her, only up and down.

Once she feels she has teased him enough- his muffled curses telling her when she has gone a bit too far-, she finally takes his testicles in one hand, rolling them gently but still using some firmness that her previous touches were lacking, while he strokes up and down his leg with her other hand. She spends some minutes on the same repetitive movement until he sounds like he got used to it, and then she moves that same hand to his cock. He curses at the touch, and Jemma has to admit that she feels like cursing herself; he is hard and leaking just like she was expecting, and she already woke up horny but all this buildup is going straight to her own head.

She gathers the precum at the tip to help smooth her strokes over his shaft, and she hopes he is too distracted by that to hear the click of the lube’s cap. His gasp when she presses the tip of one lubed finger against his entrance tells her that she must have succeeded.

“This okay?,” she asks to be sure, though he didn’t say anything when she went up for the lube, and even now he is pressing against her to try to get more.

“More than okay, Jemma, _fuck.”_ She loves when he is like this, unashamed, untamed, wanton, and loves that she is the one to drive him to such state. She is greedy when it comes to pleasure, but that doesn’t apply only to hers. “More, please.”

He is usually very withdrawn when it comes to sex, and if he is already at the state of being bold enough to ask for more, it means she has been doing her job right. She ought to honour that.

“Like this?,” she asks, the hand stroking his cock taking up a faster rhythm, and she gives him a dozen strokes before withdrawing her hand, but pushing the first knuckle of her finger inside him. “Or like this?”

Fitz pushes his hips against her, causing her finger to slide completely inside of him, and they both moan at that. Her body is on fire, all her nervous terminals on edge; she can only imagine how he is feeling.

“Both, Jemma, please?” He is rutting against the bed desperately, and his voice is breathy and high.

“Only because you said _please,”_ she teases him, but still takes once again his cock in her fist. She did start this to make him feel good, after all.

She follows the path he is lightning up for her with his staccato movements and his alluring sounds, searching with her finger until she finds the spot that makes him hiss and gasp. Fitz has moved to his knees by now, chest flat against the mattress but his ass on the air, and Jemma takes advantage of the position to press her breasts to the back of his thighs, knowing that the skin on skin contact only heighten his pleasure.

She keeps her finger pressed firmly against his prostate, knowing he won’t last long like this, and she tightens her hold on his cock, knowing that he prefers fast and hard strokes when he is close to the edge. He stutters a warning of some sorts, but that only makes Jemma curl her finger against this sensitive spot, and with two more strokes Fitz is spilling all over her hand and the pillow.

His whole body is jerking, and Jemma retreats her finger, wipes both her hands on the washcloth and pushes on Fitz’s hip until he rolls on his side. She first removes the cover on the pillow and throws it on the floor, removing the sodden cloth and both pillows from her path, and only then she focus on softly wiping clean Fitz’s abdomen, his ass crack and his spent out cock. She places a kiss on top of his pelvis, another one on his sternum, and finally lays alongside him, her head on his chest, listening to the haywire beating of his heart.

“Told you that waking up early had its perks,” she whispers against his skin.

He laughs then, still a little breathless, and though both their heart rates are slowing down, the sound makes Jemma eerily aware of the heat that is still rummaging through her body.

“ _You_ have your perks,” he retorts, his hand tangling with her fingers on top of his chest. “How can I pay back such great attentions?”

Jemma moves her leg on top of his hip, and just the air blowing against her sex makes her want to moan. Fitz moves his hand to her knee, holding her in place, and Jemma wants to eat him alive.

“Surprise me,” she says, and the statement shocks even her a little. She tends to be laser-focused on the bedroom, knowing full well what makes her tick, but the power of jumping him earlier and having him at her entire disposition made her feel dizzy, and she wants both that feeling for him and the thrill of uncertainty for her.

Fitz looks down at her for a second, his pupils blown wide, and that look alone showers her with a fresh wave of desire. She doesn’t even have time to beg him for something, _anything,_ because he pushes her to lay on her back and in one swift movement- again, _see that you can be smooth, not only flexible, when you want to be?_ \- kneels between her legs and places her calves on top of his shoulders.

“With pleasure,” he growls, and Jemma lifts her hips when he starts tugging on her knickers.

She watches him take them down and off onto the floor, and waits to catch his eye again before remarking, “Pleasure is all mine.”  

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



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